Restless

The decaying stillness of a reflection

Propping me up right to my own subjection

Outlasts the tail of dawn by ignoring God,

Glistening through each blood-orange window shard.

 

The magic subsides and the sad chimp returns

Swallowing the key to his own cage which burns,

Like the wrinkled marigold, words are despised

And nothing, oh nothing, can catch the man who died.

 

Never to be known or widely understood

The ancient compass navigates you above

To the eternity animating blood

Where a prayer disguised as a cry enslaves love.

 

The rigid declension flicks the stones and notes

Burrowed in breasts and chasms making music,

Here the exotically sickly air floats

Capturing essence before it existed.

 

The child thinks of his mother’s cries as he runs,

Cradling her hand which now never comes

To hold his hand as he prays alone under suns

Shattering the last tale which now never comes.